Fire and Water
by Anonymous5555
Summary: To celebrate Lydia and Cora's engagement the pack takes a camping trip to a remote island, but soon they discover they aren't the only supernatural creatures there. Lydia/Cora, Derek/Stiles, Scott/Allison/Isaac
1. Chapter 1

Summary: To celebrate Lydia and Cora's engagement the pack takes a camping trip to a remote island, but soon they discover they aren't the only supernatural creatures there.

Pairings: Lydia/Cora, Stiles/Derek, Scott/Allison/Isaac, off screen Melissa/Sheriff

Warnings: Slash, pregnancy (_not _mpreg), canon typical violence. Nothing worse than you'd see on the show, really.

Fire and Water

_All night I have slept with you  
next to the sea, on the island.  
Wild and sweet you were between pleasure and sleep,  
between fire and water. _

–_Pablo Neruda, Night on the Island_

Chapter 1

"Rise and shine, sweetheart."

There was far too much glee in the voice of the person flinging back her covers. Cora snatched them back up, resolutely refusing to open her eyes. Lydia's tossing and turning had kept her up all night. Something that was her fault, according to Lydia, for forcing her to spend the night at her stereotype of a creepy uncle's house.

It wasn't entirely fair. After the fallout with Derek, she'd had no place else to turn. Lydia was living in a dorm room and she wasn't so desperate to beg for a bed at her friends' parents. They were away at universities while she was slumming it at community college. On the disadvantages of going missing for six years and being believed dead—it was hard to dredge up an academic record when one wasn't legally alive.

She supposed they could stay at Lydia's, but her parents thought Cora was 'just a phase' Lydia was going through. It wasn't that she was a girl; it was that she wasn't the right _kind _of girl. After hearing about the pregnancy, they thought Lydia was crazy for staying.

Cora sometimes felt the same.

They had tried to make the long distance thing work, but their relationship was volatile from the start. An angry fight had led to a brief breakup, during which Cora had a one night stand. Lydia had forgiven it once she heard, largely in part, Cora suspected, because she had one herself. They were back together within a week. A week after that Cora was puking up her breakfast and nauseous at the smell of food.

It was Deaton who told her. She refused to believe it at first, but three over the counter tests proved him right. Lydia had taken the news relatively well, after the initial panic she started shopping online for designer baby clothes. Derek's reaction was the polar opposite; he scolded her about being irresponsible, questioned how she would raise a child with virtually no money or job. It was the shock, Cora knew. After she had stormed out, Stiles said Derek worried about her, and Derek's default way of showing that was by being an ass. Both were too stubborn to reach out to each other first, so Cora had went to Peter looking for a place to spend the night. Somehow a night turned into a week, then a month and she had started calling the guest room 'my room'.

Peter, bizarrely enough, had been happy at the news. He was so different than the man she remembered growing up. He'd always been devious, and prone to disagree with her mother, but he put his family above all else. Cora could remember him sneaking her candy her mother said she couldn't have, letting her stay up late and watch scary movies, having ice cream for supper, sneaking her a smoke and laughing when she coughed till tears stung her eyes. Sometimes she thought she remembered Uncle Peter too well, thought too much of the man he was then rather than now.

With all the Hales gone except her and Derek, it wasn't so odd he was excited about another coming into the world. He'd already wrecked things with Derek, and Cora always chose Derek, if it came down to picking sides. A baby was a second chance, a new start, the opportunity to make things right. He'd be the closest thing to a grandfather the baby had, though he had flinched at the idea of being called grandpa.

No one really hated Peter anymore, but no one liked him or trusted him either. But he was the only one who knew about werewolf pregnancies, knew what herbs to use to cure the sickness, to make her fall asleep. Werewolf pregnancies were rougher than human pregnancies; the symptoms started earlier and lasted longer.

"If you want to sleep all day I'm perfectly fine with _not_ going camping." said Lydia. "We can go to a hotel. Or a spa. Or a hotel with a spa."

Cora cracked open an eye. Of course, Lydia was already perfect, hair done, make-up on, ready to take on the world. "I like camping."

"I like air conditioner." Lydia replied breezily. She bent to buckle the strap of the absurdly expensive green heels she was wearing. "I hope you don't think we're camping on our honeymoon. We'll be somewhere with a beach and margaritas."

Cora sat up and arched an eyebrow. "Heels? You do know we'll be outside, princess."

"I'll look good on the ride there."

If they were a sappy sort of couple, Cora might have told her she'd look good anywhere. As it were, Lydia knew as much and Cora was in no mood to dish out compliments to the girl who spent all night stealing the covers. She did look good in that particular sundress, the yellow complimenting her hair and the green making her eyes pop. The heels did wonders for her legs. Cora wondered how hard she'd have to work to get that dress off. Maybe if she asked nicely enough, Lydia would even keep the heels.

"Not a chance." Lydia said, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

"What?"

"This," Lydia gestured down her body, "took an hour to accomplish. You aren't going to ruin it." She glanced sideways. "Besides, _he_ can probably hear us."

Cora flopped back down unto the mattress. The Peter issue was complicated and messy and she had learned to pick her battles with Lydia. This particular battle was one she couldn't win, and wasn't even sure she wanted to. "Yes dear."

Lydia shot her a dirty look. Cora figured she'd be seeing a lot more of them once they were married. She had been the one to propose, technically, but Lydia had ordered her to, saying _she _was the one getting asked and wearing the ring. The ring belonged to Cora's mother, a family heirloom not lost in the fire. Derek had given it to her. It had been the first step in mending things between them.

"Stiles should be picking us up soon. Try to hurry."

Cora swung her legs over the bed and felt her stomach heave. "Move." Lydia scurried away from the bathroom door and Cora barely made it before the contents of her stomach came out her mouth. Lydia winced, either sympathy or disgust, or some combination of the two. She came to hold her hair back—her nails were freshly manicured, Cora noticed, she'd missed it the night before. Cora waved her off. Her senses were so heightened she could smell the polish like Lydia was holding an open bottle of the stuff under her nose. "Peter-" It was the only word she could get out before her stomach rebelled again.

Lydia sighed and rolled her eyes. "Yes, fine. I'll get Peter to make some tea."

* * *

The kitchen was spacious and immaculate, decorated in shades of white, black, grey and silver. It had a very masculine feel to it, elegant and minimal at the same time. Peter was already at the counter when she came in, wordlessly sliding two mugs across the sleek black surface. One was coffee, just the way she liked it, and the other a green tea that stank like toilet water. Lydia had once asked what was in it and Peter had told her she didn't want to know. Careful consideration had her decide she really didn't.

Lydia ignored the coffee. Her and Peter's relationship was frosty at best. She could be civil, but there would never be any warmth between them, not after what he'd done to her. "You might have poisoned it."

"I never poisoned anyone."

"No, you just had me do it for you."

There's a flash of something in his eyes that she'd hesitantly label guilt, if she believed he was capable of feeling it. "How's Cora?"

"Hormonal and pukey." Lydia said. "Did you make that tea for trip like I asked?"

"It's in the fridge."

Lydia brushed past him and tried not to cringe when her arm touched his. She slammed the refrigerator door closed harder than was necessary. Fingers closed around her wrist and she flinched. The touch was gone nearly as quickly as it came. "I want to help Cora. You have to believe that."

The thing was, Lydia did believe it. Peter Hale carried for precisely three people in the entire world, himself, Derek and Cora. She gave him a cold smile. "Good. You can carry our bags."

Words couldn't express how much she wanted to be away from here. Taking a trip to celebrate their engagement had been her idea; they deserved it after all they'd been through. Besides, they just finished their first year of college, the days of summer vacations and spring breaks were rapidly growing shorter. Soon they'd be out in the real world with big girl jobs and mortgages. And a baby to support. That was only seven months away.

Still, there was part of her that dreaded the idea of going out to Black Rock Island. It was small and secluded, away from the world. Not a safe place to be if an emergency popped up. There was a niggling feeling inside that it was a bad idea, but she couldn't explain why. It had more to do than just with her hating camping. The last time she felt this way, there had been suicidal werewolves and an explosion.

"Lydia? Lydia, are you alright?"

Slowly, she realized Peter had been talking to her. His hand was back on her arm and he looked concerned. It was a rare look on him. "Fine. I'm fine."

She slid away from him and grabbed the mug of tea. "Cora's waiting for me. You know how she gets when she's kept waiting."

Lydia breezed away from him, but she couldn't shake the feeling of his eyes on her back, of the churning in her stomach that told her something was wrong.


	2. Chapter 2

Fire and Water

Chapter 2

It was only a weekend.

A weekend of pretending everything was fine, of sharing a tent and putting on a smile. Two days. Only two days and then it'd be over.

They couldn't tell the others now. It would spoil Lydia and Cora's moment. Moments. Trip. Whatever. Stiles had loved Lydia since he was eight years old, falling out of love with her hadn't made him love her any less, only love her differently. Next to Scott, she was his best friend. She deserved to celebrate her engagement without any of his and Derek's drama getting in the way. Cora was Derek's sister and he didn't want to upset her—he'd been treating her like she was made of fine china since hearing about the pregnancy. Fine china one argued with and made run off to their formerly evil uncle. The metaphor sort of fell apart the more closely it was looked at.

Derek appeared looming in the doorway. He was good at looming. He had the dark and broody thing down perfectly. "Stiles."

"I don't want to talk about it." Stiles said, shoving a random shirt in his bag. He kept a few at Derek's, and it seemed a good enough time to get them back. "Let's just get through this weekend, okay."

He could feel Derek looking at him, in that silent, unnerving way he had. It made him angry. Everything about Derek made him angry these days. "We can tell them." Derek said.

Stiles sighed. "No, we can't."

He jerked the strap of his bag over his shoulder. He'd only packed the minimal changes of clothes and toiletries. Lydia would pack roughly half her belongings so he needed to leave at least half the empty space for her. He, Derek and Cora could go with a single duffle bag. "We have to pick Lydia and Cora."

Derek crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe. "They're going to know something is up." He glanced at Stiles' too tight grip on the strap of his bag. "You're upset."

Part of Stiles wanted to laugh and part wanted to scream. "Upset? Yeah, I'm upset Derek, because that is how people react to a break-up. For those of us that are human."

"You broke up with me." Derek said it easily, nearly emotionlessly. _He _didn't seem upset. "If anyone should be mad-"

Stiles stalked across the space between them, glaring at Derek. "You should be mad? _You_?"

Derek pushed off the door, shrinking the space between them to inches. His eyes traveled over Stiles face like a map, lingering on his lips before meeting his eyes. "Stiles-"

"You kissed her, Derek."

"She kissed me."

"You kissed her back." Stiles wondered how many times they could have the same conversation. He'd run out of witty replies the last time around. Derek didn't say anything in return. Stiles let out a heavy sigh. "Let's go."

* * *

The ride was completely silent.

It was odd; Derek had always complained Stiles talked too much, but he actually missed his chatter. The nonstop talking, the arguing over what music to listen to, the running commentary of what the radio was playing. It felt too quiet without it.

Derek wasn't sure how to handle this. If Laura were still around, he'd ask her. It wasn't like he meant to cheat on Stiles; he didn't know what came over him. He wasn't himself. For a second it was like nothing else in the entire world existed, except the woman in front of him. It was like being a dream, and then she was kissing him, his mind foggy and thoughts hazy. It was like something had burst inside him, and he never wanted to let her go, he wanted to drown in her. It wasn't until he heard Stiles' voice that he'd come to his senses. He hadn't even known the woman's name.

It had to be something strange. Wolfs bane, mistletoe, something. He'd felt drunk, disoriented. Stiles believed him, deep inside, Derek knew. He was just hurt and didn't want to admit that something else, some other supernatural disaster could be lurking around the corner. There was a way to make things right…but Derek couldn't help thinking Stiles would be better off without him. As long as they were together, Stiles could never have a normal life. Maybe it was for the best.

Stiles would likely punch him if he said so.

"We're here. Time to put on your game face." Stiles said.

Lydia had Peter carrying her bags—all six of them—and had taken Cora's from her. "I'm pregnant, not an invalid."

"Do you have extra room in your bag? I forgot my curling iron."

Cora turned a baffled expression to Lydia. "Why are you packing a curling iron? We'll be in a tent; there isn't any electricity."

"It runs on batteries." said Lydia. "Did we pack batteries?"

Cora and Stiles exchanged an affectionately exasperated look. They shared a certain camaraderie, Stiles having dated Lydia first. They both knew how difficult Lydia could be. "I did." Stiles said. "Some of my favorite things run on batteries."

Derek gave him a look and Stiles quickly said "That came out wrong."

Cora crawled into the back seat. "Hey."

"Hey." Derek said back. Things were still weird between them.

Cora shifted around and crossed her arms over her chest, looking out the window. "I'm thinking of naming it Boyd if it's a boy. Laura if it's a girl."

Thinking of Boyd still stung. It probably always would. Laura was an old wound, a scar etched on his heart. It'd be nice to have something of them left in the world. "Yeah, that sounds…good."

Derek wasn't good with feelings, especially talking about them. Stiles saved them both from awkward silence. "Hey, I thought you were naming it after me."

"That name is a form of child abuse." Derek said.

The door opened and Lydia crawled in, curling iron in hand. "I'm ready."

* * *

The man they were paying to take them to the island was a weathered old man, gray hair and scruffy beard. He walked with a limp and spoke with a slight southern accent. "I'll carry ya'll across and be back to get ya Sunday morning. You need to come back before then you use that radio to call in."

Allison, Scott and Isaac were at the docks waiting for the others. The boys were loading bags unto the boat, while Allison made arrangements with their ferryman, Walter. He insisted on being called by his first name, and told Allison she reminded him of his granddaughter. It was obvious he adored her from the way he talked about her. He told her how she was graduating this year and applying to Stanford, how she was third in her class and captain of the soccer team. It almost made Allison envy the girl, having a grandfather who so clearly loved her, but she didn't believe in feeling sorry for herself. She was past all that now.

"Not the place most couples want to go, that island. It has history."

Allison smiled tightly. This was the part where most people started to judge her, to look at her like she was a whore, some sort of man-eater stringing two men along. "We're more of a triple."

Walter's eyebrows rose. "Well ain't that something. My wife used to say loving someone was the bravest thing a person could do. Give you heart to someone and their bound to break it. Taking twice the risk, you must be a brave woman."

Relief flooded Allison, spilling out like a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. People weren't always so understanding when they heard about her, Scott and Isaac's relationship. Scott was her first love and nothing could ever make her stop loving him, but Isaac had crept up on her, unexpected and unlike anything before. It was clear to her that Isaac, as much as he loved her, had been in love with Scott for a very long time, but was too blind to notice. It hadn't been easy, but they'd worked it out. It felt right, the three of them together.

"You said the island had history."

Walter shook his head. "Bout forty years ago. My daughter was just a little thing. I took a family up on vacation. Nice married couple with a boy around my daughters age. They wanted to stay a week. Storm came in, so I radio them but can't get ahold of them."

"What happened to them?" Allison asked, already knowing the answer.

"I went out to check on them. Found the boy hiding in a tree. The parents were gone. Said something took em. I went looking for them, but couldn't find em. The coast guard came out, we had a search party comb through the whole damn island, they were nowhere to be found. They just disappeared."

An island where people mysteriously vanished. It sounded like the setting for a bad horror movie. "What do they think happened to them?"

Walter shrugged. "Coast guard thinks they drowned. Lots of bodies get lost at sea."

"Right." It was an accident, plain and simple. If something unnatural had happened there, Cora wouldn't have picked it. They'd all had their fill of evil monsters trying to kill them. There was just one thing she had to ask, something she had to know. "The family, who were they?"

"Hale, I think it was. Conor and Larissa Hale."

* * *

"I've been expecting you."

Deaton stood behind the counter, looking at as ease as he always did. The man was unflappable, Peter had to give him that. It wasn't many men that could have their own sister threatened by alphas in front of them and remain cool. Even if that sister was somewhat estranged. Family mattered. It was why he was here.

"We need to talk about Cora."

"Yes, I think we do."

Peter didn't like coming to Deaton for help—he'd once advised Scott and his ragtag group of friends how to kill him. There wasn't much other choice. "Something's wrong."

"With the baby?"

"With her."

Deaton gestured with his arm. "Come inside."

There was probably a joke to be made about a vet that treated werewolves. Deaton had been an emissary a long time. Peter had never quite liked him. He had a way of seeing too much. "I don't trust you."

"You never have." Deaton said. "They forgave you too easily. She has too much faith in you. Derek had the same problem once and a girl died."

"A lot of people have died because of me."

Deaton looked at him without speaking for a long moment. "What's wrong with her?"

"I was hoping you could tell me." Peter said.

"You've been giving her the normal remedies?"

"I've added a little something extra. For her protection."

Deaton rose an eyebrow. "Protection from what?"

"That's what I'd like to know." Peter said, taking a step closer to Deaton. "I'm pretty sure the father isn't human."


End file.
